[American Pie] | [Första maj första maj varje sliten kavaj] | [Hannes Sköld en Guds vildfågel]

[Keep Woman in Her Sphere] | [The New America] | [Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be?]

Dan Berglund

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Dessa tre sånger har hämtats från
sajten http://creativefolk.com/






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Keep Woman in Her Sphere (Auld Lang Syne), by D. Estabrook

This song is found in numerous suffrage songbooks, and was widely sung at rallies.

I have a neighbor, one of those
Not very hard to find
Who know it all without debate
And never change their mind

I asked him"What of woman's rights?"
He said in tones severe--
"My mind on that is all made up,
Keep woman in her sphere."

I saw a man in tattered garb
Forth from the grog-shop come
He squandered all his cash for drink
and starved his wife at home

I asked him "Should not woman vote"
He answered with a sneer--
"I've taught my wife to know her place,
Keep woman in her sphere."

I met an earnest, thoughtful man
Not many days ago
Who pondered deep all human law
The honest truth to know

I asked him"What of woman's cause?"
The answer came sincere --
"Her rights are just the same as mine,
Let woman choose her sphere."

 


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The New America (America)

Sung at the National-American Woman's Suffrage Convention, 1891, this song reflects a common suffrage argument - that giving women the vote simply fullfilled the promise of 1776.

Our country, now from thee,Claim we our liberty, In freedom's name
Guarding home's altar fires, Daughters of patriot sires, Their zeal our own inspires, Justice to claim

Women in every age, For this great heritage, Tribute have paid
Our birth-right claim we now, Longer refuse to bow, On freedom's altar now, Our hand is laid

Sons, will you longer see, Mothers on bended knee, For justice pray?,
Rise now, in manhood's might, With earth's great souls unite, To speed the dawning light, Of freedom's day

 


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Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be? (Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be?)

by L. May Wheeler

Set to a popular parlour tune, this song addresses an argument made against woman's suffrage: that women already had everything they needed - male protection, a sphere of their own - and didn't need to vote as well. Download this song!

 

Chorus:

Oh Dear, what can the matter be
Dear dear what can the matter be
Oh dear, what can the matter be
Women are wanting to vote

Verses:

Women have husbands, they are protected
Women have sons by whom they're directed
Women have fathers, they're not neglected
Why are they wanting to vote?

Women have homes, there they should labor
Women have children whom they should favor
Women have time to learn of each neighbor
Why are they wanting to vote?

Women can dress, they love society
Women have cash with all its variety
Women can pray with sweetest piety
Why are they wanting to vote?

Women have reared all the sons of the brave
Women have shared n the burdens they gave
Women have labored this country to save
And that's why we're going to vote

Final Chorus:

Oh Dear, what can the matter be

Dear dear what can the matter be

Oh dear, what can the matter be

Why should men get every vote?

 

Dessa tre sånger har hämtats från
sajten http://creativefolk.com/







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About American Pie(1)

About American Pie(2)

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Don McLean
American Pie
 
A long long time ago
I can still remember how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while.
 
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step
 
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
 
So
{Refrain}
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
 
Did you write the Book of Love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so
Do you believe in rock 'n roll
Can music save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to dance real slow
 
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
 
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
 
I started singin'
{Refrain}
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
 
Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the King and Queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me
 
Oh, and while the King was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned
And while Lennon [Lenin?] read a book of Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died
 
We were singing
{Refrain}
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
 
Helter Skelter in a summer swelter
The Byrds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul out on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast
 
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the Sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance
'Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died
 
We started singing
{Refrain}
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
 
Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation Lost in Space
With no time left to start again
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
'Cause fire is the Devil's only friend
 
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan's spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrifical rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
 
He was singing
{Refrain}
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
 
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music woudn't play
 
And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
 
And they were singing
{Refrain}
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die
 
They were singing bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
 

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[Hannes Sköld en Guds vildfågel]



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Dagens visa 2002 november 23

Första maj
text: Hannes Sköld
musik: traditionell




Första maj, första maj
varje sliten kavaj
blir en mantel av strålande ljus,
varje trött proletär
glömmer mödornas här
och går drucken av vårvindars rus.

O du älskogens vår,
som befriande går
över landen i segrarefärd,
du är drömmens också,
och var blick i det blå
är en blick in i undrenas värld.

Vart förtryckarnas hot,
varje vardag med sot
blir idag som en lumpen legend.
Och var håg och vår hand,
röres fritt utan band,
och vår blick är mot framtiden spänd.

DAGENS VISA:   http://www.dagensvisa.com/minata/dav/aktuell.htm


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Dagens visa
2001 nov 23

Guds vildfågel
fritt efter Zeth Höglund

Han ser kanske trasig och smutsig ut
där han står,
men han bär sitt sitt huvud högt,
och han ser sig omkring
med ögon,
som bodde han överallt
i stället för ingenstans.

Förmågan av denna fjäderrörelse
i lynnet,
denna spänstighet av
bort från allt gods!
det är det förnäma,
som ligger i allt svenskt blod.

Han känner Gud inom sig
och hela jorden
inunder sig.

Så skrev
törnrosprästen Almqvist.

Sina studieår svalt Hannes Sköld sig fram
och levde på luft med
gud i hågen och en bok i handen,
vanligen ett lexikon,
leende och glad.

En Guds vildfågel
tillhörande den flock unga studenter,
som för hundra år sedan
anslöt sig till arbetarrörelsen
och aktivt deltog i den
socialistiska verksamheten.

Det bodde en verklig skald
i Hannes Skölds själ.
När han lekte på fiolen,
vari han även var mästare,
då fanns det ingen av flickorna,
vilkens hjärta icke veknade
inför detta berusande välljud.

Under ett föredrag,
storstrejksåret;
föll orden
riktade mot den närvarande,
kronofogden;
"Nu då alla strejkar,
är de enda som icke strejkar
dessa guldgalonerade lakejer."

Tre månaders fängelse.
Inom parentes;
Hädelse mot gud
kostade mindre;
två månader!

Men till följande uttalande
gick Hannes Sköld fri;
"En kvinna i Lotorp,
var så gudaktig,
att hon insytt bibelspråk
på kalsongerna."

Detta om skalden
som startade
Clarté.

Vagant
text: Hannes Sköld

Jag irrar kring som en fattig fant,
en arm men leende vild vagant,
den allra nyktraste delirant
som drack sej rusig på livets vin.
Med ränseln fattad uti min hand
från stad till stad och från land till land
jag flyktar som undan präriebrand
från Bakoms eviga breda grin.

Jag vandrar kring som en fattig bard,
den burschikosaste goliard,
här får jag middag, där aftonvard,
här får jag kyssar, där skäll och slag.
Fast lika munter med stjärnljus sång
från morgonrodnad till solnedgång
jag går i skritt och jag går i språng
och lever lustigt från dag till dag.

Men bakom jagar på fåle black
en svart figur, som är vind och skack,
som smyger mot mej till lömsk attack
med rasselben och schakallikt tjut.
En mursten eller en märgelgrav,
en giftdryck eller en eggvass glav,
en sotsäng eller ett hungrigt hav,
han vet, han når mej ändå till slut.


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